


P.S - I Love You

by afangirlsplaylist



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Grief, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, P.S I Love You - AU, Romance, rhink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afangirlsplaylist/pseuds/afangirlsplaylist
Summary: Rhett leaves behind messages, secrets and treasures for Link prior to his death - and with it, a journey. This is an AU based on the novel of the same name (P.S - I Love You).





	1. The first step

For one week, Link Neal didn’t exist.

He lived, he breathed, he mourned, and he walked. His company even went on without him. But Charles Lincoln Neal, as the world knew him, did not exist. 

Because there was no ‘Link’ without Rhett Mclaughlin.

He was thankful that they’d left enough money in the company to keep it standing long enough for him to be ready to face it. He’d only gone into the office long enough to film one last video and say goodbyes, making sure the last crew members staying to see things out were cared for. 

But then it was over.

The wheel, the props, the set and the memories were all sitting there behind Mythical’s closed doors, waiting for him. Several crew members had done him the favour of packing most of it away, but he hadn’t had the heart to go looking through it all. So he’d left it to those remaining to lock up business one final time, and he hadn't been back since.

It was a week later before Link could even gather the strength to leave the house again, let alone face the studio. To face all the memories and traces of Rhett that he’d see and find in everything. He was still numb when Chase tracked him down to a coffee house a week later, but he went through the motions of thanking his ex-employee when Chase passed him back his studio key and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. His right arm moved automatically to softly pat Chase’s back but he was still tense and stiff, saying and doing all the right things even if it felt like his mind was doing it for him. 

It was only when Chase walked out the door and Link watched him leave that Link came to himself and swallowed hard, realizing that it would a long time - if ever, before he would be able to see him again. 

He ignored his buzzing phone for the rest of the week after that, the brief glances at his phone enough to tell him that each was yet another crew member ( _ former  _ crew member, Link corrected himself) wanting to see how he was. Part of him felt guilty ignoring the outpouring of love and support, but he didn’t have the heart in him to answer a single one of their texts.

So it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door at 10 pm on a Saturday, and it was even more of a surprise when he felt Christy gently shaking his shoulder, assuming he was asleep.

“Honey, there’s someone at the door for you.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” He told her, attempting to turn back over in bed until he felt Christy’s hand rest gently on his shoulder again. 

“She said it was important,” Christy told him. 

“Fine.” Link groaned, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Get some sleep, I’ll be back up later.”

He kept his back turned as he got up, ignoring the way Christy looked at him with the concerned eyes he’d grown so used to in the past couple of months. He loved her, but he hated that look. That look as if she thought he was porcelain and losing Rhett would break him into several pieces on their bedroom floor. All it did when he saw that look on her face was remind him of it, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care if the emotion showed on his face as he opened his front door.

It was a cold, dark night so he opened his door to a blast of cool air, hardly noticing as he stared blankly at his guest through dry, red eyes. 

It was Stevie, dressed in a black coat and red scarf, bracing herself against the cold with an envelope in her gloved hand.

“Hey, Stevie.” 

"Hey, Link.” She said tentatively, “how are you holding up?”

"I'm not, but what else is new?” 

He made a weak attempt at a smile but he knew he was fooling nobody. The usual light and warmth she was used to seeing when he looked at her was gone.

"I came by because I have something for you. I haven’t had a chance to give it to you yet.” She said, passing him the envelope.

In confusion, he looked down at it, his thumb brushing over his own name written in sloppy cursive on the front. That was all the time he needed to recognise the writing and the hand that must have held it.

"Stevie ....” He began, but she cut him off before he could finish.

“He left it for you.” She told him. “Wanted me to pass it on.”

“I don’t want it.” Link said staunchly, shoving it back toward her.

He watched as she looked down at the envelope with pain in his eyes that echoed his own. It was then Link realized, with the feeling of a stone dropping in his heart - that the envelope was all she had left of one of her own friends. Rhett, of course, was never just his. Even if there was a part of Link that felt like he was. 

Pulling his arms around himself more tightly, Link averted his eyes as she looked up at him with her own, which were shining and near tears. 

“Charles.” She said firmly.

He startled at the sound of his birth name, forcing himself to look at her and regretting it instantly. Now that he was truly looking he noticed how her usually vibrant and silky hair was thin, straggly and unwashed - looking even drier amidst the cold and her pale face. All signs of grief that he hated to see. But he forced himself to look now, out of all the respect he could muster for his friend and former right-hand woman.

"Take it for me. Please?" Stevie pleaded. 

"Stevie I'm telling you I can't I just -” Link’s words caught in his throat and he drew a sharp breath, wiping his hand over his face. “I can't.” 

But she ignored him, folding the envelope in half and walking a step closer to him. When she was there she gently pressed the wad into his hand, closing his fist around it. 

"Yes, you can.”

Letting the hand with the envelope fall to his side, he felt her arms reach around his back to hug him just as Chase did. Closing his eyes, he felt her lips kiss his cheek lightly for a moment before she drew away, turning and disappearing into the night.

The paper he held loosely in his hand was momentarily forgotten as he watched her leave - wondering if this would be the last time he saw her but ultimately knowing she wouldn’t let it be. The thought was rather comforting as he took the letter with him into his office and locked the door. 

It seemed silly as it was the middle of the night and this was his own house, but his heart told him that this was something private, something only for the two of them. Something about reading this in the light of his bedroom, possibly with Christy reading with him - felt wrong. No, Link decided as he sat in front of his computer, he needed to do this alone.

After almost dropping the envelope twice, and giving himself a small papercut on the edge of the letter - Link began to read.

* * *

 

_ Dear Link, _

_ So I guess the day has come brother _ . _ We finally have to say goodbye to each other. It always had to come but we held it off pretty good didn't we? 30 odd years ain't half bad, even with your klutziness. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is - we had a good run. A better one than most. Better than we ever thought it would be when we started all this. It was great, and I have no regrets, but now it's time to pick your butt up and carry on. _

_ I'm going to be here to help you out. On paper, film, and audio - just for a little while. You'll get it all when I'm ready. I suppose you could call it our last scavenger hunt. Or maybe we're just getting lost together one last time. I think I like the thought of that. Kind of nice and symbolic. _

_ Now I know you won't like it. I'd wager you're sitting at your desk shaking your head right now, thinking you don't need me for this. Because you're stubborn. But I can't leave you high and dry right? Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can stop caring about you. That's not in my job description. _

_ More will come soon, but for now? _

_ Get up, go to bed and make your breakfast smoothie in the morning. Get some routines going again. Because I know if you're anything it's a man of habit. So go be that and start living again. I’ve left a couple things in the envelope that might help. _

 

_ Don't let me down brother. _

 

_ Your buddy and partner, _

_ Rhett _

_ P.S - I love you. _

 

* * *

 

 

Tears falling freely now, Link’s shaking hand picked up the envelope - turning it upside down until two smaller items fell onto his desk. One was a flashdrive, which he scrambled to shove into his USB port. Part of him expected photos, videos or possibly more letters - but there was nothing other than a single audio file.

Too curious to stop himself Link clicked it, holding his breath in anticipation until the sound of music began to fill the room. Music that stabbed at his heart and almost brought him to his knees with the weight of his grief again. 

It was a long medley of Merle Haggard songs. 

As he let the half hour of audio play he wasn’t expecting to listen to the whole thing. He’d had every mind to listen to only a few songs and go right back upstairs to bed, but before he knew it he had listened to all of it multiple times. It was almost like he was in a trance, the words washing over him like hypnotic magic. 

Link thought of Cape Fear and their strawberry wine as _Yesterday’s Wine_ played, then of Rhett as the sound of _Sing Me Back Home_ swept over him _._ _Are the Good Times Really Over_ hit closer to home than almost all of them, asking the question Rhett himself used to ask before any of this even happened, and the question Link asked himself now.

It was well into the early hours of the morning by the time he finished listening and his eyes finally fell upon the second item: a small, well-worn key. Link knew it for what it was immediately, having spent the better part of a month refusing to let Rhett give it to him. 

It was Rhett’s studio key. 

He hadn’t wanted to face taking it from his friend, even when the day came when Link knew Rhett wouldn’t get to leave the hospital to use it one more time. Because taking it meant he was accepting that Rhett was leaving him. Leaving everything they’d built. So he never did.

Now he held the little silver key tightly in his hand, wanting to feel the symbolic piece of Rhett against his skin. It was the courage he needed to grit his teeth and stand, slipping the key into his back pocket. Glancing at his phone he read the time:  _ 2:00 _ . It was two in the morning but he felt wide awake, knowing that if he was going to do this he wanted to do it now. 

Stopping only long enough to scribble a note to Christy and leave it on the counter, Link walked back through the house and out of the garage, slipping his shoes and coat on as he stepped through what he dubbed his ‘portal’ back into the real world. The metaphor felt even more real than ever as Link got into his car and set off for the studio for the first time in weeks, and probably for one of the last times.

As determined as he’d been driving directly for the studio he’d underestimated what it would be like to see their ‘mythical castle’ again.

It was like someone had taken over their castle and abandoned it, leaving a space Link almost didn’t recognise. Every sign of their work and the crew’s belongings were gone, the checkerboard flooring had been taken out, and everything left was stacked in a mass of boxes.

The sight of their lives, their livelihood and their memories all packed up was almost enough to make him turn around again, until one part of Rhett’s letter popped back into his mind. 

_ It’s time to pick your butt up and carry on. _

“You’re a jerk.” Link muttered, as if Rhett was there to hear him. 

Still, he rolled his sleeves up, taking a deep breath and staring at the floor for a moment to gather himself. When he felt ready he drew some of the boxes toward him. 

He opened the first box.


	2. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking the advice Rhett left him, Link is ready to move on.

Once he started, he couldn’t stop.

Link pored over the awards, photos, props, and clothes box by box - wetting sleeves and plastic with tears whenever something sparked a memory that hit too close to home. He couldn’t expect even the longest serving crew members they’d ever had to understand the importance of a lot of this stuff or where it should go, so he did it himself. He worked quickly - putting everything into several sorted piles to repack. Even though it was hard, it felt freeing for Link. Anyone that knew him knew that he liked order and systems, so it felt good to have something to distract his mind and hands with. He felt better than he’d felt in weeks.

Looking under a couple of Randler plushies, he found some of the pillows Jessie had made out of their T-shirt War shirts, making a mental note to pass them on to her. In another box he found a stack of plaques and awards, brushing his hand over them and remembering everything it took to earn each one.  _ A lot of time, tears, laughter, long nights and alcohol, _ Link thought with a small, sad smile.

By the time he reboxed the records from their Merle Haggard wall, he thought he must be through the worst of it - until he opened one of the largest boxes in the pile.

It was a box of Rhett’s clothes.

Swallowing hard, Link pulled out each piece and ran his hands over the fabrics. The plaid shirt he’d worn on the tour and to so many events, several ugly Christmas sweaters Rhett had collected over the years, a mustard yellow shirt, and at the bottom… a well-loved, white sweater covered in pictures of small cactuses.

Holding the sweater against his chest, Link bowed his head to breathe in the faint, earthy scent of Rhett he could still smell on it. Without thinking, he slipped the sweater over his head, stretching out his arms to admire the sleeves that were far too long for him. Now that he could feel the material, it hit him how he’d never noticed how soft and warm it was, and he felt a pang of regret.

_ I should have hugged him more,  _ Link thought, squeezing his eyes shut and wrapping his arms around himself - hugging the fabric as if making up for it.  _ Why didn’t I hug him more? _

They’d wasted so many years being afraid to show affection or hug. How many chances to touch and hold his best friend had he lost over the years? How many days had he gone without telling Rhett he loved him just because people might judge him for it?

Bitter and angry with himself, Link gripped the hem of the sweater in his fist, meaning to rip it off, but he couldn’t. Instead, he tugged it off gently and folded it like some delicate artifact - placing it carefully on the pile that would be going home with him. Jessie would understand. If anyone  _ got  _ how much Link needed pieces of Rhett to himself, it was her. It always had been. 

Shaking off the thoughts before he could drown in them, Link kept going - until he finally had five stacks of sorted boxes. Things for Rhett’s family, things for his own, things to be split between them, things to be thrown away, and things to be stored that he didn’t have the heart to throw away. 

It felt surreal to Link as he stared at what was left of Rhett and their company. Surreal to see this era of their lives laid out in boxes like it was just any other office. Any other friend. The world should have stopped by now. There should be something, anything  _ large _ enough for the world to understand that this was his life. But the world would only see it as an office of stuff.

Suddenly struck with a desire to get away from it, Link did something he hadn’t done since Rhett died: he climbed the stairs to their office.

This was the only room that was practically empty already. 

Standing in the doorway, he remembered one of the last times they were in here together, when their raised voices echoed through the walls. They’d had a massive when Rhett suggested they start clearing the office, and Link hadn’t wanted to hear it. In his mind, he thought Rhett was just giving up. Giving up on them.

* * *

_ “I was thinking we should -” _

_ “No.”  _

_ “I’m not saying we have to empty the place and throw everything out right now, I’m only suggesting we make a start in here,” Rhett said firmly, his voice strong even if his drained face and thin, fragile frame looked anything but. _

_ “I know you want to make a start,” Link said, rubbing his temple in exhaustion. “But I don’t want to go there right now, alright?”  _

_ “We’re going to have to. Maybe we could -” _

_ “I said I don’t want to talk about it now Rhett,” Link interrupted sharply. _

_ He knew Rhett could hear the icy edge and hurt in his voice, but his friend didn’t let it deter him. “When do you want to talk about it, Link? Just before my speech goes? When I can’t lift the boxes?” _

_ “Don’t,” Link spat back. “We’ve got time.” _

_ “We have NO time, okay? Zero.” Rhett plowed on ruthlessly. “You better get with that, Link, because it’s true.” _

_ There was a cold silence and tension in the air at Rhett’s words, and Link said nothing in return as he got up and left the room, slamming the door behind him. _

* * *

 

Link could almost hear Rhett calling him back and the echo of the door closing now as he stared at that same door. The door he’d slammed in his friend’s face when Rhett needed him. 

He’d left. 

He’d left Rhett to plan out what to do with their office alone. He’d left his sick best friend alone to pack up his desk. He’d left Rhett.

The guilt in his heart thumped louder, each beat drumming out those same words:  _ You left him. You left him. You left him.  _ It was almost too loud for him to hear the quieter voice at the back of his head speaking another uncomfortable truth he didn’t want to hear.  _ He was leaving you first. _

Feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the night, and wanting to look at anything other than the empty space where Rhett’s desk had been - his eyes were eventually drawn to another set of their stairs.

The GMM set and the office were special in their own right, but the loft was one of the only spaces that were truly for them and them alone. A place that not even the beasts were allowed to see. The rest of the studio had always been a bustling flurry of action, with people wanting their input on everything from costumes to schedules. Their office, with the door usually always open, was no different.

But the loft. The loft was special.

It was still there, even if almost everything that made it theirs was gone now. Everything other than their two recliners, a desk, a couple of boxes and…a guitar. 

Strange, Link thought, his brow furrowed in confusion. He’d thought Rhett’s guitars had all been packed up for Locke and Shepherd weeks ago, but here one was - with a large red ribbon and a note in Rhett’s familiar scrawl stuck to it. 

Reaching a shaky hand for the note, Link read it, letting out a half-sob, half-chuckle at his friend’s words.

 

_ I’m not here to be the guitar man anymore, and I think I’ve been that long enough anyway. It’s your turn now. _

__ \- Rhett _ _

_ P.S: I love you. _

 

“Love you too, narcissistic jerk,” Link whispered jokingly to no one, a small smile crossing his lips as he set the note aside and took the guitar into his hands.  

It was worn and well-loved, like all of Rhett’s guitars, but still sounded light and tuned as he strummed it gently. Without thinking, Link took a seat on his recliner and pulled up one of the first tutorial videos he could find on his phone, taking the guitar back in his hands as he listened and began to play.

He strummed and plucked at it until he fell asleep with Rhett’s guitar on his lap, and didn’t wake until he answered his ringing phone to Christy’s voice.

He didn’t bother to open his eyes as he listened to her soft, worried voice in his ear - feeling immediately less alone and comforted. The guitar and the loft both felt less heavy in his hands by the time he’d hung up, his wife’s voice reminding him that Rhett and Mythical were never the only home he had.

Feeling renewed strength - he made the calls to have all the boxes picked up and delivered the next day, taking nothing but the awards, the box of Rhett’s clothes and the guitar home with him.

He gave himself one final look at Mythical as he locked the door - knowing that even if he was coming back tomorrow he’d already said his goodbyes. He focused instead on getting in his car without another look back, trying to shake off the feeling that he was just going home after another day at work.

Home was still there.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely betas @theaveragebear and @missingparentheses!
> 
> Comments are love <3 please leave one :)

**Author's Note:**

> As always comments are love :) please leave one <3
> 
> Thank you to the ever lovely @theaveragebear for beta-ing and helping to make this postable <3


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